


Sunday Afternoon at the Ice Cream Parlour

by escspace



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Bondage, Car Sex, Exhibitionism, Gangbang, M/M, Modern Ragar AU, hermaphrodite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escspace/pseuds/escspace
Summary: After a long night at the club, a misunderstanding leaves Ragar feeling a little neglected by Frankenstein, but Raizel steps in to offer his comfort.
Relationships: Cadis Etrama di Raizel/Frankenstein (Noblesse), Frankenstein (Noblesse)/Ragar Kertia, Frankenstein/Ragar Kertia/Cadis Etrama Di Raizel, Ragar Kertia/Cadis Etrama di Raizel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32
Collections: The Modern Kertia Expansion Pack: Keeping Up with the Kertias





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic references the Orchid Club which shows up in my “pornography” fic and in “NSFW sketches and junk” as chapters titled “The Orchid Club” and “Saturday Night at the Orchid Club,” respectively.
> 
> A large part of the events and dialogue are from discussion with Queen_of_the_Ruckus; please give her much love. :)

Like last time, Ragar is strung up with red ropes, center stage, the neon lights and euphoric music pulsing around him. The blindfold tied securely over his eyes seems to only make him more aware of his surroundings and himself — the shuffling feet of patrons, the tension of rope, the shifts in pressure in the air. It is Saturday night at the Orchid Club, and like last time, Ragar is fucked without mercy by numerous strangers as Frankenstein lounges nearby, cold drink in hand and highly entertained. It will be hours before they are done.

* * *

Ragar squirms as his wet pussy is railed again and again, and when it is not his pussy that is being drilled, it is his ass. He tilts his head back and shudders, a strangled moan weasels past his lips, and his chest rises and falls rapidly with effort. His mouth opens to gasp as he is brought to another orgasm.

“You’re adorable,” the stranger brutally fucking him says. “Someone trained you well.”

Beside him, Frankenstein cooly chuckles. “You’ll cum on just about any cock, won’t you, Ragar?”

Ragar tilts his head down and groans softly. His inner walls sensitive and convulsing around the cock stuffing him.

“What is that now? The sixth? The seventh?”

The stranger moans as he holds Ragar close and cums insides of him, adding to the mess both within and below ejaculate drips to the floor.

“Eighth, perhaps,” Frankenstein continues.

Shameless and unbidden, Ragar gushes with an overflow of cum when the stranger pulls out. He twitches and sighs. The ropes press and shift against his skin. His face burns.

“And here I thought we had something special...” Glass and ice clink as Frankenstein raises his drink to his lips. “How cruel.”

Before Ragar can nearly recover, another cock fills him, parting his lips with an obscene squelch, and he keens from it, feeling overwhelmed and fragile. He is thoroughly fucked out of his mind and utterly filthy. Still, he takes the foreign cock obediently. The stranger's broad thumb circles his nipple as the other hand pumps his aching, spent cock. Ragar writhes in his rough hold.

"It really doesn't matter who fucks you, does it? You'd be happy with any human with a hard enough cock. It likely doesn’t matter to you that I’m here." The click of Frankenstein’s glass being placed down on a near table is sharply audible. "I'll let you have your fun then..." Then, there are the sounds of footsteps retreating from Ragar, leaving him abandoned to be taken again and again.

Ragar swallows. "Frankenstein..." he gently moans, but there is no response.

* * *

Frankenstein keeps a mental tally of how many people have so far 'used' Ragar. He glances down at his silver watch then back up again at the twentysecond participant. Over three hours have elapsed since they began their little 'show,' and his friend continues to tremble and spill himself, though Frankenstein can tell he is approaching exhaustion.

Ragar groans again for Frankenstein, but again, Frankenstein makes no move to comfort him.

The stranger fucking Ragar clumsily reaches for the everpresent black mask, and Ragar jolts anxiously from it. Before he can pull it down, however, Frankenstein silently steps forward and taps the man's arm, signalling to him that such a thing is off limits.

The stranger's eyes widen suddenly and embarrassment colors his expression. He nods, respectful, as his hand withdraws from Ragar's mask.

The matter settled, Frankenstein resumes distant spectatorship, ordering a few more drinks for himself and indulging cruelly in Ragar's quiet whimpering. He does not say a word to him or indicate in any way that he is still attentively watching over his friend, ensuring their mutual — though perhaps torturous — enjoyment. After a while, Ragar stops uttering Frankenstein's name entirely.

* * *

He gasps at the stranger's sharp downward slap to his sensitive pussy, sending a sting up his spine and wetly spattering the floor. Ragar tightens and lets out a long, shaky breath as he anticipates another cock or toy or hand to enter him and work him mercilessly, but moments pass and it does not come. He tilts his head back and sighs at the lights that he can still vaguely make out through the blindfold.

Ragar is left suspended, dripping, and abandoned.

Twenty minutes later, he is woken from his exhausted half-slumber by a shift in the ropes. It takes some effort for him to find his footing again when he is lowered to the floor, and when he does, the binds melt from his skin, and the blindfold is peeled off of his damp face.

Frankenstein, eyes bright and smirk amused, says, "You look like you've had your fun." His eyes slip over Ragar's body that is generously decorated with cum and wet. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Ragar turns abruptly away. "I am capable of doing so myself," he says curtly as he steps off of the stage and marches in the direction of the bathroom.

Frankenstein's smirk falters. His brow twitches, indicating his bewilderment as he stares at Ragar's receeding back until it disappears.

A few minutes later, Ragar emerges from the bathroom, once again prim and pristine. Frankenstein stands in front of him, arms crossed and expression wry, but before he can comment on his strangely terse behavior, Ragar glances down at his phone. "It is late. We should go home," he tells Frankenstein flatly. Then, without sparing him a glance, he walks past Frankenstein towards the club's exit.

Frankenstein, left a little baffled, has no choice other than to simply follow. They ascend the steps from the exclusive members-only basement to the friendly public ice cream parlour front and then step out into the cold night air. Ragar walks brisquely and silently to their car and slips into the driver's seat. The door slams as he closes it. Frankenstein takes the passenger seat, and they drive off in silence.

Ragar, a regular fan of human music and human habits, does not even touch the radio.

After a while of watching streetlights pass by the windows, Frankenstein finally breaks their tense silence. "So are you going to tell me what's wrong or not?"

Ragar remains wordless, his gaze fixed forward on the road.

"Did you not like it or something? Considering how many times you came, I'd say you were having a damn good time."

"We are home." Ragar steps out of the vehicle without further comment. He enters the house first, leaving Frankenstein to close the door behind them. "I will be retiring to my room."

Frankenstein, growing curt himself, trails after him only to be met with a bedroom door being shut in his face.

Their voices travel down the dark hallway late at night.

"Was it something I said?" Frankenstein demands.

"You are always saying something, Frankenstein."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What I said."

"You've never had a problem with this before, why are y—" Frankenstein straightens stiffly at the sight of his master standing before him in the hall. His red gaze is steady and observant. "Ah, Master..." Frankenstein bows his head. "Apologies if I have disturbed you."

Raizel shakes his head gently and smiles even moreso. "I believe it is time you retire for the night as well, Frankenstein."

A beat of silence passes as Frankenstein considers his actions. He bows more deeply. "Yes, Master," he says and obediently sinks away down the hall and into his own room.

Raizel knocks calmly on the bedroom door. "Ragar, will you permit me entry?"

Shortly, the door clicks open, Ragar's form framed by a slim rectangle of light. He bows his head. "Sir Raizel," he greets.

Raizel nods and steps inside.

* * *

Frankenstein lies despondently alone in bed, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling in the dark. He wonders if he had not been paying close enough attention during their scene. He wonders if someone had done something to Ragar outside of his notice, as unlikely as that is.

The night passes in cold silence for him.

* * *

In the obscene early hours of the morning, Ragar sits on his bed with Raizel by his side. After a session of Animal Crossing, Ragar saves his game and sets the device on the bedside table before relaxing back against his pillows.

"Sir Raizel..." he begins, quiet and slow. "What is it like to have his adoration — his devotion?"

Raizel watches Ragar with heavy consideration. "I believe you are already familiar with such things, Ragar."

"Hm." Ragar gazes down at his empty hands. "Sometimes, I wonder if I am mere convenience or entertainment for him. I wonder if Frankenstein might tire of me one day. He has you again now, after all..."

"Ragar..." Raizel, kind and preciously intimate, lays a comforting hand on Ragar's thigh. "What exists between you and Frankenstein is unique and impossible between Frankenstein and myself. Do not think you are expendable."

Ragar looks wistfully into the distance and far into the past. "I have followed him for centuries. Fighting along with him, eating and drinking with him, resting with him, driving with him, from one world to the next, searching for you, with him. Do you think he notices, Sir Raizel?"

Raizel leans forward and looks deeply into Ragar. "I know he does."

Slowly, Ragar nods. He tugs at his mask. They sit in silence for moments more. Then, he asks, "Sir Raizel, have you ever been to the Orchid Club?"

* * *

As the city wakes, Frankenstein finds the house short two people. The message from Master on his phone suggests that he will be leisurely enjoying the Sunday out in town. As for Ragar, he is not terribly surprised to find his company devoid of the noble after their bristled exchange the prior night.

Clicking his tongue, Frankenstein decides to spend the day in the labs. As the elevator descends, he thinks upon what could have caused their friction. If he were honest with himself, he would admit to being a little callous with Ragar at times, perhaps especially so during their 'exhibit,' but as the universe would have it, Frankenstein is plagued by both pride and pettiness.

* * *

Frankenstein only remembers to look up from his work when his phone pings with a message from Seira informing him that dinner time has rolled around already. When he steps into the dining room, people have already taken their seats, except for two. "Master and Ragar are not here yet?"

Takeo nods respectfully at him. "I heard from Mister Ragar that he's taking him out for ice cream."

Frankenstein's brow creases. "Out for ice cream...at this hour?" He knows that Ragar knows what time dinner is to be expected. Suddenly, his expression flattens like a sheet of ice as he realizes what Ragar's words might be alluding to. Swiftly, he shoves his chair neatly back into the table and turns. "Please excuse me. I will have to enjoy dinner a bit later," he says and strides towards the door.

Outside in the chilled evening, he notices that the car is gone. Frankenstein takes to the rooftops, and before long, the bells above the glass doors of Grommet's Ice Cream ring cheerily, hailing the arrival of another guest. The staff stationed in the back near the stairs that lead down to the basement know Frankenstein's face well enough by now for him to easily walk past them and into the thrumming, psychedelic pocket of space known as the Orchid Club.

Weaving through the throngs of people, drinks, and lights, Frankenstein scans the area for any signs of his usual companions. Dreadfully, he looks to the stage, where he and Ragar had captured the attention of the audience before. To his relief, there is only an unfamiliar poledancer currently performing. He pays her no mind as he looks around a bit more. After finding no one and nothing of note, he leaves the club and goes back to the bright white surface of the ice cream parlor.

As he approaches the exit, however, he stops dead in his tracks. Through the glass, he sees Raizel and Ragar round the corner, both already with ice cream cones from an entirely different establishment in their hands. He does not go unnoticed by them. Ragar holds his deer-like stare.

Raizel pushes open the door for himself and Ragar trails after.

Meekly, Frankenstein bows his head and steps aside. When he looks up again, he and Ragar glance at each other knowingly. There is nothing much they can say to each other as Raizel finishes his ice cream.

Raizel nods. "Thank you for agreeing to go out with me, Ragar."

Frankenstein blinks, thoroughly proven wrong in his shortsighted assumptions; it had been at Raizel's request that they had gone out. He is aware of what being found here suggests about what he thinks of Ragar — that Frankenstein thinks his friend would do something as underhanded as take his master here to be fucked and used by a parade of people to make a point.

"Is this the place?" Raizel says as he trains his eyes upon Frankenstein.

Frankenstein can only acquiesce. He nods and ushers them in the right direction and down the steps and into the neon bathed heart of the club.

They find seats near enough the stage for Frankenstein to see that the dancer from before has finished and that the space is now left vacant and available.

After some strange silence, Ragar rises from his seat. He nods deferentially to Raizel and announces, “I will return with drinks,” before slipping quietly away.

Frankenstein leans forward to rest his elbows on the table and sighs. “Master... Am I right in assuming Ragar has filled you in on his grievances towards me?”

Raizel nods.

“And...your verdict?”

“It would not hurt to show him a bit of tenderness, Frankenstein.” Raizel smiles privately, gently. “He values you immeasurably, but there are times when it would serve him well to be reassured that you feel similarly about him.” His gaze lowers sagely. “Do you realize, Frankenstein, that for you, he has given everything?”

“Of course—!” Frankenstein clears his throat and reclaims his composure. “Of course I do...” He huffs, smiling cynically. “It’s the most foolish thing he’s ever done in his life.”

“He would only ever be that foolish for you. Do you scorn him for it?”

“No.” Frankenstein shakes his head. “No, of course I don’t. I...can’t thank him enough for it.”

Raizel nods. He looks to the side. “Perhaps that is something you should impart on him, Frankenstein.”

Frankenstein looks towards the same direction.

Ragar is in the distance, drinks in hand and in conversation with a stranger whom Frankenstein recognizes as being one of the participants from last night. The stranger leans in close, and for a moment, Ragar seems to welcome the intimate advance. He glances back in their direction and meets Frankenstein’s tense stare. Then, he steps back from the stranger, nods a farewell, and returns to their table, placing the drinks down.

“What — not your type? You seemed just fine with him yest—“ Frankenstein drops the thought in the face of Raizel’s measured gaze. “Thank you for the drinks,” he quickly says instead and picks up a glass of brandy.

Ragar slips back into his seat. “Frankenstein...I will admit to being perhaps petulantly emotional with you the prior night. I had felt——lonesome, when you had implied that my devotion to you was not sincere and then left me alone.” He pulls at his mask, remembering the sensation of having it roughly grabbed by a stranger.

“I never left you. I wouldn’t abandon you like that, Ragar.” Frankenstein sipped his drink, feeling the sweet burn down his throat. His eyes drift to the side, a little sheepish, and he feels his face become touched with warmth. “It is the least I can do when you’ve done more for me than any reasonable person can expect.” He clears his throat.

“Ah...” Ragar tips his mask to sip at his own drink.

Frankenstein sighs past his inhibitions. “I would have to be the fool of all fools to doubt your regard of me.”

Raizel, glass of sweet orange juice in hand nods approvingly and adds, “It might not be in his nature to easily admit it, but Frankenstein is proud of you, Ragar and so displays your beauty before others.” He lays a hand on Ragar’s arm on the table, but addresses Frankenstein now. “Unlike your fears, I will not be going on stage.” Turning back to Ragar, he says, “Frankenstein is overly protective of me, because I was alone and others sought to use me, resulting in a far too long disappearance that has brought you both much grief...” Raizel’s expression falls somberly for a second but returns to one of tender appreciation. “That is why it is different for him. It is not because you are not valued.”

Ragar nods. He downs the rest of his drink and then pulls at his mask, feeling a touch shy but vastly content.

Another evening passes in pleasant company.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned is "Moon River" from Breakfast at Tiffany's, sung by Andy Williams:  
> https://youtu.be/3tuJ34YgW0c
> 
> Give it a listen if you'd like some background music to this short, sleepy chapter.

Ragar tilts his head back, knocking it against the cold car window as he trembles in orgasm. His knees are pushed to his chest and his legs are hanging over Frankenstein's shoulders, his slim form cornered against the door and backseat of the car.

In the front passenger seat, Raizel sips juice from a packet through a straw and reaches forward to adjust the radio dial, skipping over commercials until he finds something he thinks his companions will find pleasant.

Ragar sighs shakily and pulls at his mask. His cock twitches in Frankenstein's hand and wet trails from his pussy down to the black leather of the seats. It continues to spill when he clenches his convulsing walls.

Frankenstein lets out a breath as he slips out of him. He smirks, both condescending and charming, as his bright, cruel eyes roam over Ragar's body, taking in his disheveled appearance. "What a mess," he sighs as he shifts away to straighten his pants, belt, and jacket.

Ragar only stares at him, feeling the wetness between his thighs chill against the air. He finally has the space to lower his legs and lays back against the seat, pleasantly fatigued and smeared with slick.

They clean up shortly after, and Frankenstein is once again in the driver's seat.

The brown grocery bag crinkles by Raizel's feet as he reaches down and pulls from it another juice packet. He twists around and extends it to Ragar.

"Ah, thank you, Sir Raizel..." Ragar nods and graciously accepts. The soft swift sound of a flimsy plastic straw puncturing the bag follows soon after.

Then, Raizel retrieves another and punctures it himself. He turns to Frankenstein and holds the drink out to his lips.

"Oh!" Frankenstein glances over before returning his eyes to the speeding road. "Master, you don't have to..."

"I insist."

"Yes, Master." Obediently, Frankenstein sips the cool, fruity-sweet juice. After a healthy swallow, Raizel relaxes back into his seat and finishes the rest of Frankenstein's packet himself.

* * *

Somehow, later, Raizel is lounging in the backseat and Ragar is bent over, mask pulled down and throat filled with cock.

Frankenstein continues to drive. His lips curve up at the sounds of quiet debauchery coming from behind.

"Sir Raizel..." Ragar murmurs.

* * *

The car is parked by its lonesome on the side of the road, silver with moonlight.

Ragar dozes peacefully to the longing, romantic notes of "Moon River" playing over the speakers. His arms are crossed over his chest as he nestles cozily in the folds of his leather jacket.

Outside, Frankenstein and Raizel lean against the frame of the vehicle and stare towards the horizon, where the star-dappled sea meets the inky sky. Frankenstein's hand rests warmly on Raizel's waist.

His master permits him to pull them closer in the chill of the night.

"I'm surprised Ragar hasn't left me yet," Frankenstein muses.

Raizel turns to him, curious eyes beckoning him to elaborate.

"I've broken his heart too many times." He sighs, smiling with bittersweet fondness. "Nearly a century ago, we had — an altercation, after a party. I told him we weren't friends and stormed off despite the fact that he only had my best interests in mind. Twenty years later, I told him kids were off limits, but he's wanted heirs for a long time now. Ten years after that, I nearly killed him in a Dark Spear possessed frenzy. And then yesterday... And yet, he's still here, as loyal as ever." Frankenstein blows out air through his nose. "He's some glutton for punishment."

Raizel gazes at him. Then, his eyes soften and glisten with moonlight. "Much like yourself, Frankenstein."

Frankenstein's eyes widen a little at his master's quip. He smiles too and looks forward again. "Right... I suppose we're both just as foolish as each other."

"Ragar is prideful. He is proud to stand by you, Frankenstein, because he believes, without failure, that you are just and that it is just to be your friend." Gently, Raizel leans into him. "I share a similar sentiment."

Frankenstein takes a deep breath of crisp sea air. He looks at Raizel with a smile both profound and humbled, immense gratitude pooling in his bright eyes. Then, he stares forward again. "Thank you..." he whispers. Thank you..."

* * *

When they return home, portions of dinner have been saved for them, though the rest of the household has retired for the evening. Frankenstein heats up the food again and the three of them sit at their usual spots to have their long lost meal.

Soon after, Ragar is already uncorking a bottle of champagne and pouring for both himself and Frankenstein. He makes sure to mix in his friend's usual dosage of enhanced alcohol additives. For Raizel, he retrieves a can of peach flavor Lotte Milkis from the fridge.

They drink to each other.

* * *

They are in bed now, Frankenstein's face slightly flushed from both alcohol and intimacy. There are hands — skin over skin. Jackets tossed and shirts rumpled and undone. Frankenstein sighs as Ragar thrusts into him.

Raizel brushes a back lock of golden hair. "Frankenstein, you are not to cum until I command," he tells him.

"Yes Master...Yes..." Frankenstein rasps.

* * *

Frankenstein goes quiet somewhere near the tail-end of their activities, drifting off in a spent slumber.

Ragar withdraws and lays by his side.

Raizel takes his place flanking Frankenstein as well. After a moment to dismiss their messes, he burrows more deeply into the blankets and into the steady warmth of his companions. When he looks over them, Ragar is already closing his eyes as well.

Discreetly, Raizel reaches for his phone and opens up the camera. He snaps a silent photo of their peaceful faces and then tucks it away, another memory to indulge in later. Then, he slumbers as well until the sun rises on Monday morning at home.


End file.
